Beloved of Death
by kingsholto
Summary: The true story of Death that was twisted by a bard in search of fame.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything Harry Potter related.

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When Death fell in love, he fell hard. Centuries of longing for a consort lead Death to be a bit naive in the realm of the heart.

The first time Death fell in love, it was with a warrior. They met over the battlefield, and Death had never seen such a sight. The man fought with strength and passion, he was a true sight to behold. Their romance was equally filled with passion and, for Death at least, love.

On the eve of what Death knew was to be a ferocious battle, Death presented his lover a gift to help him survive the coming slaughter. A wand, more powerful than any other, made from the wood of an Elder tree from the Garden of the Afterlife and the core a hair from Death's head. Death warned his lover that the wand could only be used for this battle only, as it was too powerful risk power corruption.

The battle was won and after doing his duty collecting the souls, Death went to find his lover to celebrate victory. However, Death could not find his lover. He was missing from the battlefield and had not returned home. For days Death was frantic with worry. But on the third day, he found his him. His lover had betrayed him for the power of the wand and left to confront an old enemy he had once been defeated by.

Death was crushed. He vowed never to let himself to be fooled by passion and lust again.

Years passed by and eventually Death fell in love for the second time. This man was as different from the first as night and day. This man was a scholar. Death felt they truly understood one another, his dearest had also been betrayed by his once love. He had loved a woman long ago who had left him for a richer suitor, who eventually murdered his dearest's old love when she left him for a more handsome man.

One night during a horrible storm his dearest's parents were in a horrible accident and drowned. Death was overcome with sorrow for his dearest who lamented he was never able to say good-bye to his loving parents. Death decided he would give his dearest a gift. Death transformed a stone from the River of the Afterlife and presented it to his dearest for a chance to say good-bye. Death warned that while his parents could visit, they did not belong in the mortal world and so could not stay.

When Death returned the next day his dearest was gone, with a great sense of foreboding Death searched for him. Weeks later Death finally found his dearest stone in one hand, knife in the other. Dead by his own hand with the shade of his former love hovering over him.

Death wept. He vowed never to be blinded by pity or guilt again.

The third time Death fell in love, it was with a friend. This man was better than any he had met in his long existence. His love was honest and humble. But sadly, Death knew it could never be. His love had a love and family of his own. Death remained friends with his love, content to just be in his presence.

One night while on a walk in the forest with his love they ran into a pack of wolves. Death was afraid for his love, and offered his own cloak for the man could hide from the beasts. Once in safety the man tried to return the gift but Death refused, wanting his love to have something to keep him safe and warm.

The years passed and his love grew old. Death allowed his love to pass on his cloak to his son, whom Death had grown fond of over the years. And so Death's third loved died and Death grieved as never before.

Death went to visit a friend who he had met in his travels. Death was so overcome with sorrow, he cried to his friend about the men who he had loved. He confessed how hollow he felt and his search for his own beloved who would love Death as much as he loved them.

It would be years before Death found out about the story his friend had written, corrupting his search for love into a tale of vengeance and pride. Death had never found more satisfaction in a soul collection. Centuries passed and Death was unable to entrust his heart to another in fear of betrayal. Often Death would dream of a man, but would only catch glimpses. Flashes of emerald, echos of laughter haunted him.

Then came the night a man appeared in his realm. The man stood before him with without fear. The man smiled at Death and held out a folded cloak with a ring and wand laying atop. Death stared at his gift that were given to men he had loved so long ago. Death looked back up into the emerald gaze of the man before him and reached to caress his cheek. The man smiled wider and leaned into the touch.

"My Beloved..." whispered Death.


End file.
